


At the End of the World

by myglassisspillingover (orphan_account)



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2018-01-16 14:08:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1350211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/myglassisspillingover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine Anderson has no family, friends, and is stuck in the world of the living dead. Glee/apocalypse</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

I understand that some people are scared of reality, but with everything else I have to be scared of, reality is not one. I am scared of the dreams that hold the people I love, because I know the dreams will never be a reality ever again.

I've learned not to be scared of reality, because if you are, then you have no chance. You have to fight, to kill, not be afraid of what lies ahead, because the moment you hesitate, you are dead, or worse, bitten.

No were not talking about some bad vampire fiction here, not at all. We are talking about the gruesome living dead that cannot be stopped by anything but a bullet to the head.

 _Zombies_.

I am alone in this world of nightmares, my family dead and gone. I don't know how I am still alive, I don't deserve to be alive. Cooper died for me, both my parents died for me. I am too small to survive, too weak, alone. Its only a matter of time before my fate takes me.

I have hidden in the same building for almost a month now, just waiting for a walker to come bye and take me out. In a way I want to die, but I can't, my family would want me to live, and that is enough for now to keep me fighting.

I look out at the abandoned skyscrapers and feel myself drifting to sleep, the sounds of gnawing walkers echoing through the empty buildings.  
..........  
I wake to the jarring sounds of voices.

"He's asleep." One says.

"No joke idiot, do you think he's a threat?" Said a feisty female.

"He's not very big." Said a high voice,.

I kept my body from tensing, I could feel the heat radiating of the people around me. My heart was beating out of control, I knew only the worst of people survive, I knew the high possibility they could kill me. I didn't have the time to dwell on anything, I jumped into action.

I leapt up from my place on the ground, not taking any time to study surroundings. I knew there was a garbage shute around the corner, and I knew it was my only chance. I dashed around the people, using all my strength to push through my exhaustion. I saw the shute and a rush of energy pushed me towards it. My feet pounded on the pavement, sending shocks of pain up my legs. They were right behind me, and I made a mistake. I hesitated. Hands garbed me from behind and threw me to the ground.

I looked up to see my odds to be three to one, two guys and one girl, all around my age of 16 or 17. The one who had grabbed me, the guy with the mohawk , and the Latina girl looked at each other in a seemingly silent conversation, while the other boy studied me. He was what I would have said to be beautiful in my past life, I don't have time to think about things like that now. He didn't have a angry look to him like most, he looked sad, like he was sad to see me laying here.

I didn't have time to dwell on his sad look, it seemed that the other two had finished there conversation, and now were looking at me in some sort of expectancy.

"Are you alone?" The mohawked boy asked.

"Yes." I answered quietly.

"How many walkers have you killed." He went on with his stream of questions.

"A few dozen."

"How many people have you killed." He inquired.

I shift my knees to my chest and wrap my hands tightly around them, closing myself off. "Walkers were people once, they are still people, they cant help being bite." I said, partly avoiding the question.

The Latina smiled, "We got us a softy, just like Hummel."

I blushed and the beautiful boy rolled his eyes, "Whatever Santana, they are still people, you should know that after Brittany." The girl, Santana's, expression softened, her gaze shifted down.

The boy with the Mohawk spoke up, "How many breathing people have you killed."

"One." I flinched unconsciously.

"Why?"

"He asked me to."

There was a bit of silence. Not too much, silence is not a wealthy thing in this world, everyone is moving too fast.

"What weapons do you have?"

"A knife." I pulled of my rusty kitchen knife I got from a butchers place downtown.

The mohawked boy raised an eyebrow in surprise, " That's it?" I nodded.

"Not such a softy after all." Santana commented with a smirk. I played with my hands to avoid their gaze.

"Do you want to come with us." The beautiful boy asked, "we have a camp and we always can afford a few more fighters."

"I'm not sure I'm much of a fighter." I said truthfully.

"I'm sure we can find something for you to do." He persisted.

It was a shocking proposition, a camp, with people, and food, and shelter. I nodded, it was too big of a deal to turn down.

He smiled, "I'm Kurt, this is Santana, and this is Puck."

"Blaine, my name is Blaine."

Kurt smiles, and Santana rolls her eyes."Well' come on, We don't have all day." Puck said, holding a hand out to me.  
I took it, always rendered of how quickly things change

.........

The smell of rotting flesh tainted the air of the underground sewer pipes Kurt told me to be 'the only thing that kept them alive this long'. They shifted through the expanse of pipes with such ease, I could tell it was a route they had taken countless times before. I had a bit of trouble keeping up, but ignored the burn in my legs in favor of the prospect that a shelter lies ahead.

The underground tunnels we took were empty of walkers, even so, I kept my guard up, aware of the knife in my pocket. Puck lead the way, crossbow balanced expertly on his shoulder. They all had several weapons on them, but they didn't offer me one, I guessed that they were going to try and test me before we reached camp. It surprised me how adjusted they were, given how flimsy my family had been when were together.

When we reached the end of the tunnel, Kurt leaned over to me while the others prepared to go out. "There is usually about ten to twenty walkers hanging out side this door," he whispered, "when we get out there you have to be able to fight, Puck and Santana will be watching you so you need to be careful and do the best you can." I nodded, just as I thought, nothing is for sure without a test.

I took deep breath, taking my rusty knife out my pocket. The doors opened and light spilled out, highlighting the massive crowd of flesh eaters. I looked at Kurt and he winked, "Good luck" he yelled, rushing up to stab a walker in the head.

So much for the softy thing.

I clasped my knife in my hand as two walkers started toward me. I spun out the way, getting close enough to the walker to plunge my knife through its skull, blood splatter hit my face as he fell to the ground. I turned to the other without hesitation, giving it the equal stabbing. More started approaching, I held my knife steadily, ignoring my heavy shaking. I emotionlessly jabbed and fought everything approaching me until the air was clear of the living dead.

Puck came and patted me on the back, "Good job, were almost to camp."  
I nodded, following the others as they trudge through the mass of bodies.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They arrive at camp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPONTANEOUS UPDATE! I still have no planned out anything for this story.

We drudged through the magnitude of forest that lay its arms out for us, following a trodden down path I could infer the group had taken many times before.

I saw signs as we walked, spray painted letters on old billboards and waterproof tarps, all spelling out the same thing: 'safe ground to the west'. I speculated, since we were obviously traveling West, that these signs lead to the camp we were going to. Kurt observed my curious looks at the signs, "We put up those signs so that people could find the camp." He confirmed my inference.

I was a bit surprised that they would want anyone to find their camp, most didn't. If you managed to find shelter, you did all you could to keep it safe under any circumstances. If a group of troublemakers found the shelter, they could break it just as easy as you had built it.

I handled my blade carefully at my constant recollection of the danger, I had learned that the people who survive are sometimes more dangerous than walkers, only the worst could survive. That's why, even when they had seemed so far harmless, I kept in mind that people change in this world.

Its a absolutely horrible thing to have to adapt to living your worst nightmare.

Our walking seemed to go very slow, or maybe it was the longing for human interaction that dragged my mind, but we finally arrived at the camp. There was not a word spoken when Puck stepped in front of us and draped back the forests hands, opening up to reveal a tightly fenced piece of land that resembled an old campground.

There was twenty or so neatly lined cabins, a few wells, and an astonishing abundance of people.

People. The last time I had seen so many had been almost a year, right in the heat of the disease.

I felt almost dizzy, with some sort of feeling I could not place at that moment.

I was so tired, so lonely, so just miserable being stuck alone for so long, when seeing the display of honest happiness and normality so profoundly laid in front of me was a sight so, well, almost relieving. I could have collapsed right there and said good bye to the world, once and for all, with the knowledge that good people really did survive.

But, as it always was, the slight moment of serenity was ripped from my grasp.

"Stop gawking and come the hell on Hobbit." Santana fired, quickly hurrying off without the rest of the group, followed stoutly by Puck.

Kurt rolled his eyes at her, turning to look at me. "Don't mind her she has a compulsive disorder that compels her to uh............well damn, I don't have any other excuse except for that she is a bitch!" He grinned, I laughed.

And we headed for the gates, once entered, Kurt told me to come with him. He lead me through throngs of people, quickly walking to our destination. The eyes of the people followed me, I felt their gaze digging my back as we passed, dissecting eyes tearing me to the core. I wondered how I looked to them, my wild curls and thin figure, I wasn't much, I was fragile, not the typical picture of a surviver.

But I _did_ survive.

Kurt and I traveled until reaching a cabin at the very back of the campground, he whispered quickly to me at the threshold, "this is my Dad's cabin, he is the leader of the shelter. If you want to stay, act smart, and be polite. You seem like a nice guy to me, but we have to be safe." He leaned back, knocking four times and he pushed me in without a warning.

The inside of Burt Hummel's cabin looked like a picture fps right from a spy movie. Guns and several different types of knifes lined the walls, the floor was moss green carpet and a world map splayed up on the far wall, with small writing detailing almost every corner of the paper. Burt Hummel sat on an armchair in the far corner, holding an old, simple radio with white noise blaring from it. He looked up from the ground as he entered, turning down the radio.

"Dad, this is Blaine." Kurt said jestering to me.

My aptness to social interaction had declined drastically since the vast period of time I spent in solitude, so I simply said hello.

He turned to Kurt, without greeting me. "Where did you pick up him?" He asked, tapping his foot on the ground. He was studying me, like an object he bought at an auction, an item he was so uncertain what to so with.

"He was alone on top of a random building we went scouting in," Kurt said, "he tried to run, back Puck scared him. He said he would not hurt anyone, and had survived for a month alone with a kitchen knife."

Burt raised his eyebrows, " _Only_ a kitchen knife?"

"Yes." Kurt confirmed.

Burt nodded, sizing me up for the second time, now with a new perspective. "Is all of that true boy?"

I gulped, "Yes Sir."

He grinned, "Well then welcome to camp. Kurt will show you to a cabin and tell you the rules. You will be on watch duty from 2:00 to 6:00 AM until you move up a rank, newbies start at the bottom. Talk to Puck about it after you've rested."

"Yes Sir." I said, it felt strange, everything felt strange,

It felt strange to have a home.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know when I will be updating this, but it was really fun to write so presumably soon.


End file.
